


eye for an eye

by jified



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 21:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jified/pseuds/jified
Summary: "It's equivalent exchange, you know," she says conversationally. "Strength you may get, but be careful; what you lose is just as valuable."Est runs from Archanea, and meets a witch in Valentia.





	eye for an eye

It goes like this:

They win the war. Her sisters cheer. Abel beams at her, soft and gentle, says, "Let's go home."

Est takes Mahnya and flies.

 

Theoretically, it is possible to fly the distance from Archanea to Valentia. Take a pegasus, in peak physical condition, an example being the famous Cloud Dreamer who won the long distance section in the National Pegasi Races four times in row, and counting. A lightweight jockey, ample care, and they've created an entire, theoretical guide on how to make a pegasus fly the distance, damn the consequences. 

Est doesn't meet the conditions. 

Est takes a ship, instead. Signs all the necessary forms, lets Mahnya get boxed and locked up for the trip, and slides her ticket to the sailors. If anyone tries to find her, it'd be easy to find her trail of paperwork. If. Est's hoping that's a no. 

Est hopes, in general, that no one remembers her. That they'll say something more along the lines of oh-Est-that-useless-burden-of-a-pegasus-knight? It's-better-for-us-without-her. Kidnapped-thrice-over-and-always-causing-trouble. Let-her-go.

Est hopes. 

"Here's your ticket, ma'am," the man says politely, arm stretched out. Est takes her ticket. 

"Thank you," she says. Smiles. The man nods and turns to the next person as the queue moves on. 

Unnoticed. Unrecognised. Alone. 

This is what Est wants. Isn't it?

Est may have won wars thrice over but so has she been captured thrice over. The weakest of the Whitewings, so far away from Palla who shines the brightest, one of the keystones in the second Archanea war. Catria, who had wowed the soldiers as she shoved her lance through Terrors in Valentia. Est, who forced her sisters to cross oceans and turned Abel against Marth. 

The boat rocks, gently, as passengers get on. Est takes a seat at the side and looks out into the ocean. 

Est doesn't have a plan. Est doesn't know what to do. Est gazes out at the blue blue waves and wonder what it would be like to be swept under, gasp out a breath and inhale saltwater. 

Kidnapped, once again, but this time there's no one to hear her scream. 

Est thinks she much prefers that, actually. 

The ship docks all too soon (it was a seven hour trip) and Mahnya nuzzles her hand, soft (she's too used to this) and when Est passes through the final gate into Valentia, she slides a leg over Mahnya and takes flight (it's been a while since she's flown without a lance in hand).

Here is Zofia, and there is Rigel. Est thinks of the familiar woods and nature of Zofia, rustic villages and kindly villagers. The cold, billowing winds in Rigel, alone and alone and alone. 

Rigel it is. 

They say Rigel and Zofia are united but there's still a clear border divide. Est eyes people in ragged clothes crossing from Rigel to Zofia, merchants from Zofia to Rigel. Est flies over. If there are border regulations, then, well. 

Est flies over. 

"Sorry, girl," she tells Mahnya, crooning. Mahnya whinnies. "You must be tired, aren't you? C'mon, just a little more, and then we'll land, alright?"

Flap, another flap, and they touch down when far enough from the border. Mahnya whickers. There's no grass to graze. Est soothes her, a light touch on her nose, pats down her neck. Snow settles around them, cold and dirty grey. Dirt mixes with white and withered leaves gather on the ground. 

Behind them, a branch crackles and snaps. 

Est tenses, and whips around. Her hands tremble. Fourth time's the charm, huh.

It's a witch. Purple hair falls down rivuets over skin and ragged attire. Eyes blink, eerie, at Est. Hands curl delicately at the witch's side, nail polish scraping off in flecks, and if Est looks closely, there's a hint of mascara on her eyelashes. 

There's no mistaking it. 

"S-Sonya?" Est gets out. Sonya cocks her head. Hair falls to her side, and she smiles, all wrong and fake and soulless. 

"Est," Sonya croons, and Est flinches. Witches lost their souls, didn't they? No memories, no emotions, no empathy. They had nothing. Yet here Sonya was, standing with an empty smile and calling Est's name. Purple skin and purple hair and eyes all wrong and lidded. 

"I thought," Est says. Stutters. Stumbles over her words. "That Duma was gone."

At that, Sonya laughs. Echoing, distorted, or maybe that's just Est's fear warping everything. 

"Silly girl," she says. Croons, again. "Duma is all-mighty. Duma is forever."

Sonya had never been one for Gods. 

"I didn't," says Est. Stops. "I didn't. Know that witches could talk."

"Oh, sweetheart," says Sonya. Her smile shows teeth this time, white in some places and rotting in others. "They can't."

"Then," Est says, and her voice comes out breathy. Her inhale stutters and her exhale pauses. "But then."

"Don't go around thinking I might have a soul, now," Sonya says, and something in Est's chest shudders and drops. Cracks and shatters in millions and millions of tiny little pieces. "That'd ruin my reputation."

Est shudders. Stares, with wide eyes and stuttering lungs. 

"Witch," breathes Est, and Sonya laughs and laughs and says, "Yes."

 

Est wakes up in a manor. Her body seizes, and Est whips her head around. Captured, again? What was. What?

"I haven't had guests in so long," Sonya comments, and Est flinches as memories come flooding back. 

"H-How...?" she croaks. The last thing she remembers is that sickly, horrible smile on Sonya's face, and then darkness. 

"Warping, my dear," says Sonya. She smiles that sickly smile once more and Est stumbles back, hands scrabbling on the floor behind her as her instincts scream _get away get away._

"M-Mahn-Ma-" she rushes, words tripping and falling over themselves. Est lets out a tiny, aborted breath as Sonya looks at her. 

"Your adorable pegasus?" she asks. Tilts her head, in a way so familiarly cocky that Est feels that pang of something once again in her chest. "Don't worry. She's right outside with some grass."

Est shivers, silent and scared. 

"Are you afraid of me?" Sonya asks, and laughs at Est's lack of response. "Oh, silly question. Of course you are."

Sonya takes a step forward. Est stumbles a step back. 

"Don't be," Sonya says, breathes. Her heels click on the cold marble floor, stained reddish brown. Est tries not to think about how that got there. "I can tell. We're the same, you and I."

"We're not," denies Est, her voice small and rasping. 

"Oh, but we want," Sonya says, and leans down. Brushes Est's cheek with her cold, cold hand, and Est shudders but stays frozen in her position. "Want so badly. That we'd give up everything. Won't we?"

Her fingers trail down Est's face, gathering at the edge of her chin, lingering for just a moment, then sweeping off. Sonya straightens.

"If you ask Lord Duma," she says. "I'm sure he'll be happy to provide."

"N-no," Est says, but her heart's thumping a different beat and thoughts are swirling. Emotions for clarity. Love for self. Soul for strength. 

Est has always wanted...

"No," she repeats, but her heart's pumping another way around. 

"I can already tell," Sonya laughs. A sickly sweet grin again that's all wrong and fake but the fear's already dying down and Est is thinking _nonono_ and her heart's going to the beats in between. Est misses the terror, the fright, because at least then her heart would beat in time with her thoughts. 

Est stands on shaky legs. Sonya watches. Est staggers back. Sonya watches. Est stumbles out of the room and into the main room. 

Sonya watches. 

Eyes on her back, and Est is running to take flight but her wings are chained down by herself. 

 

Est doesn't leave. Everytime she thinks of leaving, there's a pang in her chest that grips and pulls. She stares out at Mahnya then turns away. Valentia isn't, wasn't supposed to be like this. 

The other witches in the manor don't speak. They only stare. Est makes her way down corridors and hugs her arms to her chest, as gazes pierce her body. Sonya is the only one who shows emotion, fake or not. Sonya is the only one who laughs and smiles sickly sweet. 

Sonya's the most terrifying, Est thinks. 

Est doesn't eat. Est doesn't sleep. Est doesn't do much of anything but still, time passes by. Or maybe it doesn't. Est doesn't know and the longer she stays, the less she wants to. 

"I hope this is a nightmare," Est tells Mahnya, once, brush in hand. "That I'll wake up, and, and."

And what?

Mahnya doesn't reply. Est brushes her mane.

"I don't want to go back to Archanea," she says. "And I don't know where else I'll go."

Soul for strength. What Est wants. 

"I'm scared," Est whispers into fur. 

Mahnya doesn't make a sound. 

 

"You haven't left," says Sonya, once.

 

"Will he provide?" Est asks. She and Sonya are sitting at a rickety table, tea cups in front of them. It reminds Est vaguely of lone tea parties she used to have with her sisters, except it's all wrong and off and nobody is drinking. 

"Who?" Sonya asks, a painted smile on her face. She speaks less and less by the day, smiles growing more fake. She doesn't laugh anymore.

"Duma," says Est. And Sonya's smile stretches wider and wider. 

"Oh," she says. "You're considering it?"

Est doesn't reply. 

"You want strength," Sonya pinpoints. And she cocks her head in that way again, subtly arrogant and graceful, hair falling delicate strands and a small smirk gracing her lips. 

"It's equivalent exchange, you know," she says conversationally. "Strength you may get, but be careful; what you lose is just as valuable."

"I have nothing to lose," Est says. Swallows, small. 

"Then you will have nothing to gain," the witch says. 

Est trembles. 

"Why," she says, and the words catch in her throat. She gulps, and tries again. "Why are you suddenly. Suddenly. Discouraging me? When, when at the start, y-you."

Were so cunning. Were so convincing. Were so venomous and sharp like the cutting edge of a sword. 

"You've changed," Sonya says.

"That doesn't answer my question," Est hissses. She stands and bangs her hands on the table, a sudden anger overtaking her like a torrential wave. "This is about you."

Sonya stares. 

"You've changed," she repeats. 

Est shudders, stops. She sits back down. 

Watches as Sonya disappears into wisps like a fading dream, and thinks about her words. 

 

"I don't know why I try to talk to witches," Est muses, to Mahnya. "They're witches."

 

"Sonya," Est says. She widens her footsteps to try and catch up to the witch disappearing down the corridor. "Sonya!"

The witch doesn't respond. 

"What did you gain?" Est shouts her question, and Sonya is gone. 

 

"In retrospect," says Est. "I don't think she was ever talking."

 

Soul for strength. Strength for soul. 

Est wonders why now when she's willing to take, that she doesn't want to. 

 

"I don't know what that says about me," Est finishes. 

 

Sonya stops talking. 

Maybe she never started in the first place. 

Est looks at the witches, and tells Mahnya, "I don't want to go back to Archanea."

 

In the morning, Est takes flight.


End file.
